


Metamorphosis

by Xenobotanist



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Babysitting, Bedtime Stories, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Short One Shot, quickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24417406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist
Summary: Julian and Garak babysit for the O'Briens and read a bedtime story to Molly
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 7
Kudos: 81





	Metamorphosis

Molly snuggled up to Julian on the couch while he opened their bedtime story.

“The Very Hungry Caterpillar,” he read.

Garak interrupted from his end of the sofa. “Is this another morality tale? The last two had quite dubious messages.”

“No, it’s not. Hush,” Julian admonished. “ _In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf.”_

Garak leaned over the little girl to study the picture. “Is the moon significant? On Cardassia, no story mentions the moon without it playing a substantial role.”

Julian and Molly ignored him.

“ _One Sunday morning, the warm sun came up and—pop!—out of the egg came a tiny and very hungry caterpillar.”_

“Why does it have to be a Sunday? Do insect eggs hatch on a weekly cycle? Or is this an allegory for birth?” Two exasperated pairs of eyes bored into him. “What?”

Julian continued the story, following the day-by-day account of the tiny bug’s culinary exploits. Garak persisted with his interjections.

“Those Earth fruits don’t originate from the same continents. How can he travel so far in one day?”

“Maybe he’s at a grocery store,” Julian grumbled.

“That doesn’t sound very sanitary. And isn’t he consuming vast amounts of sugar? If it’s harmful for the human diet, what’s it doing to this little creature?” The story continued to Saturday, when the caterpillar made its way through ten different foods. “Now, what is this teaching youth? All of that junk food? Quite unhealthy.”

Molly perked up. “I like pickles! Uncle Julian, can I have cherry pie?”

“No, it’s bedtime, let’s finish the story.” He tried to pick back up, making it two more pages before the next disruption. “ _He built a small house, called a cocoon, around himself.”_

“Oh dear. That color and shape are most unfortunate.”

Julian groaned.

But Molly agreed. “It looks like POOP!” she crowed.

They finally reached the last page. Garak looked disappointed. “How did he become a butterfly? There was no fairy godmother or magical beans. And why was he rewarded for his gluttony? Surely he should be punished instead.”

“Molly, you want to take this one?” Julian asked, grinning.

She bounced on the cushion. “Caterpillars are babies that _become_ butterflies. They have to eat a lot so they can go through meta…meta…metamorph-sis. It’s _science.”_

“Well, I suppose you would know, with Professor O’Brien for a mother.”

They dismissed the little girl to her room to don her pajamas. She reappeared wearing a shirt that read “Cetacean Ops,” a tutu, and targ slippers. The two men weren’t sure what she normally wore to bed, so they let it slide. They ushered her back into her room, where her bed had been turned into a blanket fort.

“Alright, in you go,” Julian urged.

“No, not yet. I need my friends,” she said, hurrying to the far side of the room. She dug several stuffed animals out of a chest and carried them into the fort. But instead of following them in, she made a second trip.

“How many do you need?” Garak asked from the doorway.

“A few… more.” She started on a third trip, pulling out another armful.

“Wait, wait, that’s enough,” Julian said. “There’s barely room for _you_ in there!”

“I’m not sleeping there,” Molly replied. “I want to sleep in my sleeping bag.” She pointed to her closet.

Julian sighed, but followed her finger.

“Really, she we be indulging her like this?” Garak stepped in to assess the stability of the fort. “This shelter should be more than adequate.” He fingered the fabrics. “Although it _is_ a bit garish.”

Molly peered at him solemnly. “No, _you’re_ Garak.”

Garak got down on his knees to lecture at a more appropriate height. “Yes, I’m Garak. And I said that the blankets are _garish._ They are very bright, and none of them match.”

“That’s what _I_ said!” Molly chirped. “I wanted a tent like Mommy and I sleep in when we’re on Bajor. But we don’t have any blankets here that are the right green and brown colors.” She frowned as she petted one. “Though these are a lot softer.”

Julian arrived and rolled out the sleeping bag. “My queen,” he said, bowing.

Molly put her hands on her hips. “I’m not a queen; I’m a botanist, and I’m going camping.”

Behind her back, Garak smirked. “You certainly do have a way with the ladies.” He unzipped the bag for Molly to climb in. She wriggled in and smiled up at him. He pulled the clasp back to the top. “And now you are all wrapped up in your cocoon,” he pronounced. “Perhaps in the morning, you will wake with the sun and be a beautiful butterfly.”

Her eyes grew very big. “Uncle Garak? Could you make me _wings_?”

He blinked, taken aback by the title she’d bestowed. But a gentle smile formed, and he inclined his head. “Why, of course. But only if you promise to eat much healthier than the caterpillar in the book. That means more vegetables and less cherry pie.”

She nodded solemnly.

Back in the main room, Julian settled onto the couch once again. “I told you this wouldn’t be so bad.”

Instead of responding, Garak was standing just outside Molly’s room, fiddling with his padd.

“Garak? Is everything all right?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, just fine. I’m just working on a new pattern.”

“You could bring it over here and sit down. We’re in the home stretch now, until the O’Briens come home.” Julian patted the couch next to him.

Garak wandered over, hardly looking at the furniture he dodged.

As he settled in, Julian leaned over to rest his head on Garak’s shoulder. Because he was tired, not because he wanted to snoop. But he couldn’t help but notice that Garak was going through his inventory, generating a collection of shimmery and sparkly yellow, orange, and green fabrics. He shifted, settling his arm on Garak’s leg to squeeze the knee. Unfortunately, there was almost no reaction. He turned his face into the other man’s neck, breathing on him. “You know…once Molly’s asleep, we’ll have some quiet time to ourselves.”

“Mmm,” Garak replied distractedly. “Actually, my dear doctor, I was thinking about heading home early. There’s a project I’d like to get underway.”

Julian set his plans on the back burner. “Would this project have anything to do with a certain little girl and a pair of wings?”

Garak finally looked up, smiling shyly. “Well, her birthday _is_ next week.”

Which meant he was likely to come home to a dozen bolts of fabric on the console, a pile of scraps on the couch, and a very fixated tailor on the floor, bustling about a pattern.

He gave his partner a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Go ahead. I’ll be by in a couple hours.” One more kiss. “You really are a big ol’ softy, Elim Garak.”


End file.
